Dave Simpson 

The Lemon Twigs review – mullets, high kicks and sumptuous harmonies

Michael and Brian D’Addario dress like they’re in a 70s panto, but any suggestions of pastiche are demolished by the humbling beauty of their songs
  
  

One of the year’s oddest phenomena … the Lemon Twigs.
One of the year’s oddest phenomena … the Lemon Twigs. Photograph: Andrew Benge/Redferns

The dreaded “tastemakers” who told us what we were going to be listening to in 2016 didn’t find room for a band who sound like a vaudeville, baroque amalgam of Todd Rundgren and the Beatles, complete with harpsichord runs and baffling time signatures. Nor was there any suggestion that hearts would be won over by a pair of teenage former child actors from Long Island, one sporting a hairstyle that is part-Bay City Rollers feather cut, part-80s footballer mullet. Nevertheless, these madcap 4AD signings have become one of the year’s oddest phenomena, their much-praised debut, Do Hollywood, resulting in sold-out shows like this.

The place is so packed that it’s initially difficult to see the full glory (or horror) of the Twigs’ outfits. Brian D’Addario’s striped jacket could be from panto; his brother Michael’s shirt collars were last fashionable in 1975. Few would want their wardrobe, but if it helps bring attention to their audacious chord changes and sumptuous harmonies, so be it. Any suspicions that they are too arch or a pastiche are gently demolished by the humbling beauty of songs such as These Words and the sincere care with which Brian – and later Michael – sing them. They are also great showmen, who indulge in stick twirling, a (gulp) drum solo and (double gulp) high kicking.

After they’ve swapped between drum kit and microphone, disaster strikes when Michael’s voice suddenly turns into what sounds like the croaking result of 150 gaspers a day. “Do it gonzo!” urges his older brother, howling with laughter at this unfortunate predicament. However, help is at hand as Brian and the cheering audience appropriately turn As Long As We’re Together into a giant anthem about unity. Michael’s croak subsequently becomes another quirk in this tune-packed hoot. A Great Snake is a synth-squiggling monster, but when Brian introduces a “new song” and is interrupted by a wail of feedback, he says, “That was it! Thank you and goodnight.” He’s joking, but there’s a wonderful few seconds where nobody seems quite sure.

  • At District, Liverpool, on 3 December. Box office: 07817 302677. Then touring until 29 March.
 

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